


When Nadia Isn't Home

by orphan_account



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alcohol warning, Crack, OOC overload, Other, Swearing, cursing, dont leave the courtiers alone, nadia why do you make ur servants go through such chaos and hell, the courtiers, valerius is oblivious that the rest of the court is demonic bc drunk, volta is drunk, vulgora's cursing in like five different languages, wiggler guest appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Valerius gets Volta drunk. Turns out she's one hell of a troublemaking drunk.





	When Nadia Isn't Home

**Author's Note:**

> have i proofread this? no. will there be typos? obviously.

Volta was a cute drunk. Valerius shouldn’t have expected anything else, but he had never seen such a typical, hiccuping drunk in his life. With all the food she constantly eats, you would have thought it’d take longer for the alcohol to absorb. Then again, she did chug that bottle of wine in thirty seconds… 

“How are you feeling, Volta?” The consul asks, watching as she waltzes through the room to make herself dizzy. If he were a bit more sober, he would perhaps worry for her. But the daze from the wine was stopping him from making any assumptions whatsoever.

“This is nice!” She squeaked, spreading her arms out for momentum. A series of giggles escaped her lips before she stopped abruptly, yelping at her most likely affected vision. “Volta thinks this is very, very nice!” Valerius simply sat back as the tiny courtier struggled to walk. She extended her arms forwards and wobbled, before leaning forwards and face planting on the ground. How did she not catch herself when her arms were in front of her?

The light smack made the Consul choke back a howl of laughter. “Volta, dear, are you alright?” He took another swig of wine as he waited for his drinking partner’s answer. 

“Very much so!” She happily squealed. “I simply must ask the Countess for more wine when she comes back!”

Valerius hummed and watched as the small woman stumbled towards him and grabbed the bottle next to him. She tilted her head back and tipped the bottle, frowning when she never felt the familiar refreshing feeling of liquid pouring into the awaiting mouth. She lowered the bottle and whined upon the discovery that it was empty. 

“Oh?” Valerius sat up straight as Volta started shaking. 

“There’s no more..!” She hugged the empty bottle to her chest tightly as she bit the inside of her cheek, as if to stop herself from crying. “There’s no more, there’s no more! Oh, what will Volta do? So very hungry… So thirsty…” 

Taken aback, Valerius halted. “We… we can always get some more? You know, in the kitchen? Where the rest of the wine is?” The Procurator’s eyes lit up like a christmas tree. She looked up to Valerius and wildly shook her head as the Consul stood up and lead the tiny being out. For an instant, he thought of holding her hand to make sure he wouldn’t lose her, but he decided against it. She wouldn’t wander far off knowing there was more wine where he was going. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

Upon hearing a loud crash in the distance, Valerius had turned around to check on Volta. She wasn’t there anymore and the last time he had checked was about two minutes ago. He had just lost a tiny drunk courtier inside of a gigantic palace filled with, well… other courtiers and incompetent servants. Great. Just, dandy. “Volta?” Yeah, as if calling out for her would do anything. 

“FUCKING BITCH!” Valerius’ heart fell. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. He was not about to be framed for second degree murder because Volta went ahead and got herself killed by an angry Vulgora. Following the sound of crashing and cursing, the Consul made his way into a lounge room, only to be greeted by a confusing sight. 

Upon the entry of another courtier, the two abruptly stopped, like deer caught in headlights. Volta clung for dear life onto Vulgora’s head, grasping their horns. The headpiece usually worn by the red fury was discarded and left place for disheveled red hair. It looked like the Procurator had made a nest in their hair, really. Valerius let out a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t dead yet. 

“Khren ty khochesh'?!” They asked, sneering towards Valerius. “Are you gonna fucking help me get her off? She’s fucking heavy?” Volta simply giggled. 

Would you approach a tiger if it was growling? No, because it’d bite your hand off and you’re not stupid. This was exactly the same, but with a courtier. If Valerius were to come too close, they were sure Vulgora would attack. Or bite. Because they sure had the teeth for it. 

Seeing as Valerius wasn’t about to approach any time soon, the Pontifex decided to take matters into their own hands. They stomped towards the window.

“W-wait, no..!” With a significantly rough shake of the head, Volta catapulted off Vulgora and flew straight out of the window, screeching. The Consul stood there, speechless as he lost sight of the small drunkard. Did he just witness a murder?

“Scheiße…” They scratched their head, unbothered with the discarded headpiece. As if only noticing Valerius now, Vulgora shrugged off the ‘slaughter’. “She’ll be fuckin’ fine. The fuck did you even give her?” 

Well, if they say she’s going to be fine… “Wine. I think she’s drunk.” 

A deep chuckle escaped from the back of Vulgora’s throat. “And so are you, dumb bitch.” What? Of course not. Valerius could handle his liquor like a fucking pro. He’s 110% sober right now, he knows it. 

A shrill screech echoed through the garden, making both courtiers roll their eyes. Two possibilities: a) Volta found Vlastomil; b) Volta found Wiggler and therefore found Vlastomil as well. Should they go care after Volta? Possibly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Vulgora grimaced, settling down in one of the lounge chairs as if it was a statement on its own. “I’m not taking responsibility for her.” 

“DOĬTE NAZAD TUK, KOĬTO MUSHETE ASSHOL!” Vulgora jumped back to their feet as soon as they realized they hadn’t caught the god damn worm yet. They then shot a hateful glare towards the Praetor cowering near the gazebo. “Why the hell would you bring that monstrosity here?!” 

In the distance, Valerius shrieked as Wiggler decided to become the predator instead of the prey. He was categorically not going to become a worm’s bitch. Not today, no sir.

“She was lonely! And she wanted to visit the palace!” Vlastomil whined. “What better opportunity to bring her than when the Countess is away?! She promised she would behave!” 

“I said it once and I’ll fucking say it again; I fucking hate your worm kink.” The courtier clad in red brushed themselves off before rushing after the gigantic worm yet again. 

“It’s not a kink!” Vlastomil yelled in a shrill voice. “It’s a lifestyle!” 

The game of cat and mouse was far from being over. Vlastomil was no help, Valerius was being chased by the worm itself and every time Vulgora managed to catch it, it managed to slip out of their grasp. Their infuriation levels were at their max and if it kept going the way it was, they were going to snap; as simple as that. 

Stopping once the worm took off in a different direction, Valerius stopped when he noticed something off. Vulgora didn’t care. They pounced on the worm, certain this time would be the right one. “Has anyone seen Volta? I thought she was with you, Vlastomil.” 

Vlastomil turned around. “Oh? I suppose she isn’t there anymore. How curious.” Vulgora cares. Taking the moment of distress, Wiggler managed to escape the Pontifex’s iron grip once more. 

“DIO SONO FIGLIO DI UNA DOVE HO LA TUA TESTA SCOPATA!” They boomed, striking the muddy earth with a glove clad fist. “Cazzo vuoi dire che Volta non c'è, figlio di puttana?!” 

“S-she was there a moment ago, I swear!” Vlastomil looked behind him again, this time in a more distressed manner. Looks like they had just lost the tiniest form of trouble ever to be made. Again. 

“If you ever get her drunk again, I’ll personally wring your neck.” Vulgora threatened as they shot a glare towards Valerius. They then tried (and failed) to push their messy hair out of their face. “I say we let her do fuckall and if she gets killed, she gets killed.” 

“Killed by what?” Vlastomil asks, disregarding the fact that there was a drunk (yet still human) Valerius in the vacinity. “It’s not like she could bother the devil himself and have her deals cancelled-” 

“VOLTA!” The three looked at each other in both horror and amazement. You could practically hear their jaws hit the floor. How could someone just… get into that much trouble? 

“Do we..? Just let her die?” Vlastomil proposed. 

“I vote die.” Vulgora muttered, barely able to hide how angry all this bullshit had gotten them. 

“I would vote die as well, but if the Countess comes back to a dead Volta, I feel like we’ll die too.” 

“Fottuto incompetente. Merda stupida. Cagna guastafeste. Fottuto figlio di puttana che non riesce nemmeno a stare fermo per un fottuto dio dannatamente secondo!” Vulgora marched back towards the palace. 

“B-but what about my Wiggler?” Vlastomil asked as Valerius followed the Pontifex to what might be certain death. 

“Aux enfers avec ton putain de Wiggler! Que tu l’shove dans ton cul et meurs, crisse d’amputé mental!” With a final and royal Fuck You from Vulgora’s middle finger, the two entered the palace once more. Vlastomil hesitantly followed close behind. He was worried for his worm, but would he miss the chance to see what Volta had done to piss off Valdemar to the point of yelling? Never in a million years. 

As soon as they stepped into the hallway, they were halted by a small blurry figure dashing past them, giggling and shrieking. That was without a doubt the Procurator. What they hadn’t expected, however, was Valdemar chasing after them at top speed. Seeing the Quaestor carry themselves in a sprint instead of their usual relaxed walking was surreal. And also extremely scary, for some unknown reason. The three courtiers watched as the two disappeared at the end of the hallway. 

“Was that a glass of wine in her hands?” Vlastomil hesitantly asked. He was about to add on but cut himself off when the small drunkard came back running in their direction, Valdemar hot on her heels. 

Volta came to a halt and hid behind Vulgora, tilting the contents of the glass back as if to take a sip. Valdemar shrieked when she tried to swallow it.

“No! You can’t drink that!” The doctor yelled. They reached out for her only to be stopped and pushed away by Vulgora. “That’s a heart, you dumb fu-”

“What in the ever loving fuck?!” Vulgora screeched, stealing the glass of wine from the small woman who whined once it was taken from her hands. Indeed, a seemingly human heart sat in the glass as still as ever. “Why the hell would you even have that in a glass?!” 

“Easy access. Now give i-” They reached out but once again, Vulgora tugged it away yet again. “Pontifex, I would suggest you hand that heart over before I lose my fucking shit with you.” 

Valdemar’s language must have been a shocker to Vulgora, who froze and barely reacted when the Quaestor took the glass. With one last glance at the courtiers, they muttered something underneath their breath before walking away. “Motherfuckers.” 

Valerius was the one to break the silence, glancing down at Volta who was currently occupied trying to climb the walls. And succeeding. “We have to find a way to stop losing Volta.” 

“Well what do you suggest, genius?” Vulgora grumbled. The Consul looked from Volta to Vulgora. “Oi. No. Whatever you have in mind, you will not.” 

“Hold her still, will you? She’s still fussing.” Vulgora tried to tighten the fabric around them that held Volta to their chest, but it was as tight as it could be. Tilting their head back, the courtier clad in red (and now forced to carry Volta in some kind of baby carrier) failed to dodge another slap to the face from Volta. 

“Arrête de crier, putain! T’as faim so on t’fucking nourrit!” No sign of comprehension from Volta. She had been making a scene out of the fact that she was hungry for over thirty minutes now. Valerius had been waving food in front of her for the last five and Vlastomil had been crouching in the corner for fifteen minutes. Nothing was working. If she were human, they would just hope she’d fall asleep soon, but she’s not. And she’s really annoying now.

The door slammed open and in stepped Valdemar once more with murder in their eyes. More so than usual. 

“W… What are you doing?” Vlastomil anxiously asked when he noticed the syringe in their hands. They approached Volta and Vulgora with the unknown substance. “Wait, don’t..!” Valdemar plunged the needle into Volta’s neck and she instantly fell limp. 

“Is… is she dead?” Valerius asked. He was scared, but the fact that there was no more of that liquid in Valdemar’s syringe sort of put his mind to ease. Without saying a word, they turned to the Consul. 

SLAP. 

Vlastomil gasped as Valdemar’s gloved hand struck Valerius’ cheek, leaving a bright red mark. Latex must sting... “Get her drunk one more time and you’ll never see the light of day.” They turned around and walked out of the room. “She’ll wake up in six hours.”


End file.
